


For You

by swordliliesandebony



Series: Gladnis Drabbles and Shortfic [2]
Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Angst, M/M, Post-Altissia, Romance, Self-Esteem Issues, Survivor Guilt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-27
Updated: 2018-03-27
Packaged: 2019-04-13 15:14:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,892
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14115111
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/swordliliesandebony/pseuds/swordliliesandebony
Summary: "Being expendable isn't all bad."Gladio and Ignis and Gladio's guilt and Ignis's frustration after Altissia.





	For You

**Author's Note:**

> [inspo jam](https://youtu.be/4O1weQ3oGAM) for this one
> 
>  
> 
> [catch me on tumblr](http://swordliliesandebony.tumblr.com)

Gladio isn't great with words.

He's perfectly well-versed in using precisely the wrong ones, at exactly the worst moments. A lifetime of unintended arguments with Noctis springs to mind, though only briefly. It's hard for anything to spring to mind, save the man laying beside him, still adjusting to being awake; still adjusting—Gladio thinks—to even being alive. Close calls. Too many of them all around. And he's managed already to say the wrong words.

_ What the hell were you thinking? _

Maybe he should be asking himself the same thing. The edge wasn't intentional. If anyone can understand that, it's Ignis. The fact that Gladio hasn't been cast out of the bed or the room or his life on the whole is proof enough that he may. He wants to reach out, to put his hand through Ignis's hair and try at real comfort, but there's no avoiding the tension standing like a wall between them. He props himself on one elbow, lays at his side so he can watch Ignis, so he can keep eyes on him, so he can have that visual reminder that he hasn't been killed, that he hasn't been snatched away as Gladio had been so certain—so terrified—was the case.

"Noctis was in danger. You would have done the same." The words are simple, shameless, firm and final. Gladio grunts out his frustration out of the simple fact that he can't outright argue them. He doesn't know what happened there, a point that he cannot begin to forgive himself for. He doesn't know  _ what  _ Ignis did, but he knows that it was to save Noct, and that… well, it's little salve to the sting. 

"You could have  _ died _ . Noctis needs you. Alive. Throwing away your life isn't your job—"

"—but it  _ is  _ yours?" Ignis's interruption is sharp and, again, designed to shut down the argument. It doesn't though. Instead, it nestles neatly between his ribs and it makes him grateful for just a faction of a second that Ignis can't see the way his face changes.

"Yeah. It is. I'm his shield. I'm there to take those hits, whatever the cost." Ignis knows that, though, doesn't he? He's not stupid. Recklessly devoted to Noct? Sure. Foolish in his behaviour on that regard? Absolutely. But he's not stupid. He knows exactly what Gladio's job is, what he's been trained for and what has been expected of him his entire life.

"You weren't there," Ignis pauses for only a beat, but it's long enough for Gladio's stomach to sink, for his whole body to feel cold. He's right, of course. Gladio hadn't been there. What would the scene be if he had? Would he be laying in the bed, eyes bandaged and useless? Would he be alive at all? He had failed, and he had failed when it had been as crucial as it could have been. When he might have saved Ignis from this moment, from any number of moments to come, "at least that's something to be thankful for."

"Hardly." Gladio's voice drips sarcasm, tastes bitter even on his own tongue. He hates himself, outright  _ detests  _ every damn choice he made in that crumbling city, for leaving Noctis and Ignis alone to what they faced. And Noctis, hell, he still hasn't even  _ woken _ yet. Maybe all those failures were deeper, more obvious and outright still. He can't let himself consider that possibility. He can't entertain the idea that all of this—Ignis's sacrifice and Luna's and everyone else's before them—might have been in vain.  

"You're aware I'm not a fan of your relentless desire to throw your life away." Ignis's voice is sharpened to an edge once more, but there's something else behind whatever harsh exterior he presents. Because he shifts on the bed and, though he's still blinded by injury and bandages, he turns to mirror Gladio's position. He curls himself half-risen against a bank of pillows and his hand searches to span across Gladio's chest. He lingers there a moment, catching his bearings perhaps, before he drifts to find Gladio's shoulder, to trace the line of his arm until he's comfortable lacing their fingers together. The gesture sits in perfect opposition to the tone of his words, though Gladio can't say he doesn't appreciate the fact.

"Not really a desire." Gladio shrugs and he squeezes Ignis's hand. "I desire a whole lot of things," another squeeze, pointed, a purposeful punctuation of the statement that draws a twitch at the corner of Ignis's lips, "dyin' for my king is part of the job, though. I've…" he hesitates, and he's not sure what to say for a moment. Rather, he's not sure how much to confess. Ignis, after all, is recovering. He's hurting. He's only just woken after days without promise he ever would. But he swipes a thumb over Gladio's knuckles and it's received as an encouragement, intended or not. "...I've failed Noct plenty of times. And I failed you, too."

"Gladio, you didn't—"

"—I did." Gladio doesn't allow that argument to take flight, to gain so much as a toehold. "Listen," he pauses, hesitates again. He inhales deeply and when he sighs that extended breath, it ruffles through Ignis's hair, warms against his cheek. They're so damn close. He wants to kiss him. He wants to ignore everything else, to let the words fall aside. He's much better at kissing than he is at speaking. Instead, he squeezes Ignis's hand again, "my whole life has revolved around Noct. It's always been about my duty to him, about being shield and what that means. There's never been a time when I wasn't aware what my purpose in life is. Or when I thought that my life meant anything without his."

He has to fight back a lingering bitterness in the words. He's come to accept them. He's given up on the teenage rebellion that strained his relationship with Noctis. He's given up on a lot of things, in order to better fulfill his role, to better serve his king. It has been difficult. Impossible. And now that he feels he's reached that point where he can be the shield Noctis needs, the one he deserves and the one Gladio is expected to be? Of course, he managed to fall short. He swallows against a lump, one that's comprised of guilt and shame and a million emotions that Ignis will try to dissuade. Ones that Gladio can't let him get a word against.

"My father died for his king. I didn't need Cor to confirm anything to know that. I don't need anyone to tell me he didn't hesitate, or that he made that sacrifice with pride. Chances are, I'm gonna do the same, a lot sooner than he did." He does all he can to ignore the expression across Ignis's face. Rather, to attribute it to something other than his own words. A flash of pain from too many injuries that he should have been there to prevent. Yeah, that's absolutely what it is. "But I'm not him. If I was, I would've never been away from Noct in the first place. You'd be the one sittin' here feeling bad for himself for not taking enough of the burden." he laughs, something low and humorless.

Ignis opens his mouth to say something, but Gladio quiets him quickly. He brushes his thumb over Ignis's knuckles now, adjusts that grip again and draws his hand back to his chest, back to safety and warmth and the only comfort Gladio is any good at offering.

"I'd way rather live, you know. Growing old, keepin' you company, it's not a bad gig. Used to drive me crazy, though. Livin' my life for someone else. Sounded like a fate way worse than death. But you know something, Iggy?"

"Dare I ask?" Ignis's voice is uncharacteristically thick and Gladio feels some guilt for that, but his free hand shifts so he can stroke forefingers down his cheek and along his jaw and he finds himself smiling when Ignis leans into the touch.

"Being expendable isn't all bad. Noct needs you a whole lot more than he needs me—"

"— _ Gladio! _ " Ignis's voice was a shot of daggers this time, but Gladio felt a little bit like they were back in Insomnia, sparring in the training rooms.

"I'm sorry I wasn't there, is what I'm saying. Because living for you and living for Noct? Kinda go hand-in-hand, don't you think? You're not gonna get hurt again. I promise. Whatever it takes."

"You're being foolish." If Ignis's voice was thick before, it's tearing at the seams now, swollen with emotion nearly beyond recognition. It makes Gladio question the wisdom of his words, even if the intent remains unshaken, solid foundation to core. His fingers drift, he follows a tremor at Ignis's lip, swipes over it with his thumb. He doesn't know if it's the exhaustion, the pain, the blindness, or the simple heft of emotion that's rendered any typical masking of emotions useless. Whatever it is, his stomach tightens up and he winces, entirely independent of the harsh thump Ignis gives at his chest, hand closed into a fist. 

"Maybe." Gladio shrugs, exaggerates the gesture so that the hand holding Ignis's shifts and the bed creaks and Ignis can feel the pose even if he can't see it. "You do that to me."

"Ridiculous. Your logic is… utterly flawed. The idea that Noctis is better served by—"

"—Iggy—"

"—No. Stop interrupting me when I'm telling you how stupid—"

"—I  _ know  _ how stupid I am." Gladio laughs, all warmth caught in his throat and beating through his chest. He draws his hand from Ignis's face to close around that fist still pressed at his own chest. He smoothes and soothes and eases Ignis into pressing a flat palm there instead. "You understand that I'm just making an excuse here, right? And you understand what I'm trying to say?"

"That you've every intention of throwing your life away on  _ my  _ behalf as well, should the situation present itself." Ignis doesn't follow Gladio's line of hiding any bitterness, and that aches, but it doesn't draw either man away from one another, and that's the part Gladio decides is important.

" _ Anything _ I do for you wouldn't be thrown away." He murmurs. He leans closer, so their foreheads nearly touch, so their breath mingles. Gladio can feel his heart racing beneath Ignis's hand, and maybe it's a giveaway for his intent, but again, Ignis doesn't draw back. If anything, he presses closer, squeezes his other hand tighter. "And I'm saying that I love you."

Gladio is the one who intends to kiss Ignis, but he's beaten to the punch with a subtle tilt and a sudden warmth. It's short and it's gentle and it's not at all enough. Not even close. Not even in the damn ballpark.

"You're saying it in an utterly idiotic way." Ignis chides, but his tone is shifting. There is still a weight of emotion to his words, but there's a dance of amusement too, a shift around the edges.

"How would you suggest, then? Since you're the expert." Gladio is only teasing, of course, but he feels Ignis's lips shift to a smile against his.

"Like this." And the kiss that follows this time is anything,  _ everything _ , but leaving him wanting. 


End file.
